The iron gate slammed shut behind me with a thunderous clang, sealing the world outside away like a coffin lid closing tight. The sudden silence was suffocating — the kind that presses down on your chest, makes your heart pound so hard you swear you can hear it in your ears.
In front of me, a dozen grown men loomed like dark shadows carved from nightmares. Faces etched with scars, eyes wild or cold, some gripping crude weapons while others simply snarled with madness etched deep into their bones. No kids. No allies. Just me—a five-year-old standing on the edge of a world that wanted to chew me up and spit me out.
The arena was cloaked in thick darkness, swallowing everything beyond a few flickering torch flames that danced like ghosts against the cold stone walls. My breath hitched, chest tight, and I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.
"What the fuck is this?" I muttered under my breath, relief flickering that at least no women were here to complicate things. Survival meant focus.
Before I could steady myself, the darkness shattered like glass as a blinding explosion of light erupted overhead. The air itself seemed to crackle with electricity as the arena flooded with harsh, unnatural illumination. I raised a trembling hand to shield my eyes, slowly letting them adjust as the crowd's roar cascaded over me—a savage beast awakening, hungry and ruthless.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEEEEENNNNN!!! WELCOME TO THE ARENA OF HEAVEN AND HELL!"
The announcer's voice thundered through the cavernous space like a twisted carnival barker, dripping with malice and spectacle. His voice bounced off the iron and stone, magnifying the wild energy coursing through the crowd.
Cheers erupted—wild, sharp, and raw—from every corner of the arena. My eyes scanned upward, locking onto a sea of faces draped in expensive fabrics, jewel-encrusted smiles, and eyes gleaming with greed and anticipation. The rich bastards—parasites feeding on pain and death as though it were fine wine.
"In this arena, we bring you the finest selection of slaves!" The announcer grinned like a shark smelling blood. "From the northern continent, brutal barbarian serial killers—warriors who bleed for nothing but the taste of violence and the glory of destruction!"
The crowd erupted into a frenzy—roars, whistles, and stomping feet shaking the ground like a thunderstorm breaking loose.
"And that's just the beginning! We have maniacs, hooligans, and misfits from the darkest corners of civilization!"
The crowd's reaction twisted—some jeers and boos mingled with savage applause, the sound raw and unpredictable.
"But wait, there's more! Feast your eyes on the beasts from the dark forests, cultists of the bloody moon who worship death itself, wind-striding serial killers who haunt the night, bandits from the infamous Halberb Bridge!"
The announcer's voice dropped to a savage growl, "And finally, the one and only… OGRE! The bear killer! A mountain of muscle with fists that shatter bone and legends that make blood run cold!"
The crowd erupted into madness—cheers so loud they threatened to rip the very roof off. I caught whispers, half-mad stories swirling like smoke—how this OGRE tore through bears with nothing but his bare hands, how his name was fear itself.
I swallowed hard. My body felt fragile—a five-year-old thrown into a pit of wolves.
"Beasts," I thought. "Dangerous creatures from unknown forests. No explanation needed. Deadly."
"Cultists," I mused. "Mad fanatics soaked in blood and dark magic."
"Wind striders," I guessed. "Fast killers, shadows in the night, death incarnate."
"Northern barbarians," my mind painted. "Bloodthirsty savages with no honor—vikings if you want it simple."
"Bandits of Halberb Bridge," I figured. "Skilled, ruthless, and deadly in their own right."
"And then… OGRE. The monster among monsters."
My heart hammered. I knew I had to stay far away from that mountain of muscle. My body was fragile, weak—no match for a force like that.
"Hooligans, maniacs, misfits…" I whispered to myself. "What the actual fuck am I even supposed to categorize myself as?"
And if you're wondering why I'm not spilling all the juicy details of their reputations ain't the titles already self explanatory, well… who even am I talking to? Nevermind.
The crowd's roars swelled again, the air thick with bloodlust and anticipation. The scent of sweat, dirt, and iron filled my nostrils—a savage perfume of death waiting to bloom.
I gritted my teeth. Fear clawed at my gut, sharp and unrelenting, but I swallowed it down hard. I was scared, but fear was a luxury I couldn't afford.
The announcer's voice rose, slicing through the chaos like a knife.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for a very special occasion! We have a few guests whose names cannot be spoken, and for this grand event…"
His voice dropped low, a sinister smile in his tone.
"WE DECLARE THIS A FREE.FOR.ALL!!!"
The crowd went berserk—screams, stomps, and wild applause that shook the very stones beneath my feet.
My blood boiled. Adrenaline surged in a tidal wave through my veins, every nerve alive and screaming.
Free-for-all?
My mind screamed inside my head, words exploding like wildfire.
You piece of shit!!!
The nightmare wasn't just real. It was merciless, endless, and I was smack dab in the center of it.
But there was no room for weakness. No room for doubt.
I was a five-year-old kid with nothing but raw instinct, wit, and the savage will to survive.
The arena was a pit of death and chaos—but I was going to claw my way through it.
Because if this was Heaven or Hell, then I'd be the one to burn it all down.